He's My Son
by Elfpen
Summary: Songfic to 'He's My Son' by Mark Shultz. an overview of Elrond and Aragorn's FatherSon relationsip. Also features Gilraen.


Everything LotR belongs to Tolkien.

'_He's My Son' _is written by and belongs to Mark Shultz.

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_I'm down on my knees again tonight,  
I'm hoping this prayer will turn out right,  
See there is a boy that needs your help.  
I've done all that I can do myself._

Lord Elrond Peredhil of Imladris looked down at the small, helpless young boy in front of him, laying on one of the many beds in Rivendell. As he examined the boy's wounds, he concluded that he could no longer do anything but wait. But there was still some matter of healing for him. The boy's father had been killed, he had witnessed the whole thing. Shot through the eye, the man this boy called father had crashed to the ground in agony and soon after died. And the creatures responsible now haunted his young mind, filling his dreams with nightmares of loss, pain, and grief.

Tears threatened to spill over the elf's eyes as he looked down on the distraught, bruised face that adorned the pillows leaning up against the headboard. Sighing, he fought back the tears that now stung at his eyes so much that it hurt. All he could do was hope. Hope for healing. Hope for life. Hope for everything. But right now, it all seemed in vain…

_His mother is tired,  
I'm sure you can understand,  
Each night as he sleeps,  
She goes in to hold his hand…_

Gilraen slowly, and silently entered the room, seemingly ignoring Elrond and walking past to her son. She looked much worn, she had lost her husband, her son was in great loss, and she didn't know how she should care for her son now. He was of a great line, and if that information got into the wrong hands, there would be dire consequences. She knelt by his bedside, and snaked her elegant hand up to the small boy's, holding it tight. She was somewhat calmed by his even breathing, but knew the nightmares that haunted him every sleeping hour would soon shake even that small comfort. With her free hand she brought her shaky, cold arm up to smooth out his dark hair, revealing a purple bruise.

"Oh Aragorn…" She sighed…

_And she tries… Not to cry,  
As the tears… Fill her eyes…_

Gilraen felt the tears in her eyes demanding to fall, and even though she willed herself to be strong, she could not hold up against the dam that broke with a sob as tears streamed down her weary face.

Elrond, who had been watching silently, felt a single tear roll down his cheek. He then silently walked over to the woman and placed a gentle, reassuring hand on her shoulder soundlessly, not feeling the need or desire to say anything. In response, Gilraen looked up at the Elven Lord sadly,

"What will I do with him?" she asked, beseeching the tall, dark haired elf for an answer. Elrond opened his mouth to speak, but found no words. He didn't know. He would gladly take the boy into his household, but that was her choice, not his. Gilrean read his features, clearly seeing the undecided ness on his face. "Will you take him, Lord Elrond?" She asked, looking up at Elrond with hopeful eyes and a torn heart.

_Can you hear me?  
Am I getting through tonight?  
Can you see him?  
Can you make him feel alright?  
If you can hear me,  
Let me take his place somehow,  
See he's not just anyone…_

Elrond looked down at her with surprise, and then sat down on the bed, careful not to disturb the sleeping boy, and thought. Looking over at small being, Gilraen's son, he decided that yes, he had grown quite fond of the boy. But to separate him and his mother? That was a whole other story. Looking from the young toddler, to his teary-eyed mother, he sighed heavily, fighting back more tears.

"Yes. If that is what you wish. I will take him into my home, and he will be known as my son." Gilraen, sadly, but truly, smiled. She nodded in approvement and then looked back at her son.

…_He's my son._

Elrond held Aragorn as he cried. His mother had left today.

"Shhhhh… Hush, tithen pen. You will be fine…" He knew this didn't do much, but the words flowed softly off his tongue as he rocked the boy, who's sobs had calmed somewhat. He was so tired… So helpless… So innocent. Elrond looked sadly down at the boy's tear-streaked face, and began softly singing an elven lullaby, one he had sung to his own sons so long ago…

"You are fine, ion nin… Estel…"

_Sometimes late at night I watch him sleep,  
I dream of the boy he'd like to be,  
I try to be strong and see him through,  
But God who he needs right now is you…_

Five years later, an eight year old Estel came running home, tears blurring his vision as he ran past his two adoptive brothers and straight into his father. Startled, Elrond stopped suddenly when his youngest ran into him. Putting a hand on the small dark head, he knelt down so that he could meet the young boy's eyes.

"What is wrong, Estel?" Although he didn't have to wait for an answer, as he could see it written on his face, and the retreating voices of young, teasing elflings faded into the distance. Looking up at his sons, who looked just as he probably did now, he then wrapped Estel in his arms.

That night Elrond watched the young boy's chest rise and fall, relieved by his calm face and clear expression. He wondered if he would ever be accepted here… If anyone would ever understand why he took the boy in. Why he cared for him like he did…

_Let him grow old,  
Live life without this fear,  
What would I be?  
Living without him here…_

Elrond sat attentively at Estel's bedside. The seventeen year old had a broken arm, broken ribs, his leg was bleeding relentlessly… He sighed heavily. Really, he was going to lose all sanity and security he ever had in all his years with this young, mischievous one around. He put his hand on the young man's brow, glad to see that his fever was going down, and also happy to see that his face had regained some of its normal color.

"What would I do if you left me, Estel? What would the world do?" Elrond said this aloud, well knowing that one day, he would have to learn of his inheritance.

_He's so tired…  
And he's scared…  
Let him know…  
That you're there…_

Aragorn's eyes were unreadable as every emotion ever to grace the world flooded into his being. He was the heir to the throne? He was the king of Gondor? He was the one that everyone had been waiting for all these years? But how?

"Ada… I – I don't want this! I don't want any of it! I just… I want to be here… I want to be myself… I want to be your son…" Aragorn's eyes brimmed with tears, which then fell down his cheeks, trailing lines of overwhelming shock across his confused face. Elrond looked down sadly at his son.

"Hush, Estel…" He soothed, "You will always be my son…"

_Can you hear me?  
Am I getting through tonight?  
Can you see him?  
Can you make him feel alright?  
If you can hear me,  
Let me take his place somehow,  
See he's not just anyone,  
He's my son._

_Can you hear me?  
Am I getting through tonight?  
Can you see him?  
Can you make him feel alright?  
If you can hear me,  
Let me take his place somehow,  
See he's not just anyone…_

_Can you hear me?_

_Can you see him?_

_Please don't leave him... _

Elrond looked up and his son… The crown of the king shining in the sunlight… So many memories… So many emotions… So much love. He looked on as his adopted son, now king of Gondor, reunited with his beloved, Arwen, whom was Elrond's own daughter. His vision blurred quickly, and unable to hold them back any longer, tears of joy streamed down his face. His son had fought and won battles, he had achieved so many things. He had made his dreams come true. He had fulfilled his destiny. He had concoured his fears. And he had made his father proud… So proud. So very, very proud of his son.

_He's my son._

Fin


End file.
